


red, red, red

by rywaen



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M, Mentions of Sex, fun stuff like that, there's a lot of blood, uh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-08
Updated: 2012-07-08
Packaged: 2017-11-09 10:07:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/454277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rywaen/pseuds/rywaen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>you see red, and your life flashes before your eyes. you see red, and you know it's the end. you see red, and it's all over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	red, red, red

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to aisu10 and hybridcomplex because I love them and they helped me through this.

The shot rang out, loud and brilliant for the entire world to hear. It encompassed everything that was agony and pain, sound bleeding in an echo like the steady stream of blood from the wound that was gaping in his chest. Open, exposed,  _like a nerve_ but worse, so much worse.   
  
He blinked slow, steady, breathing jagged, harsh, suddenly gasping for air. Lung was pierced, torn open and he was drowning in the blood that rushed in and out and around the broken skin and muscle. He looked down, brown eyes wide as he saw the _red, red, red_ everywhere. He reached up to touch it, feel if it was really real and his fingers came away stained.    
  
This was real. He could feel the dull throb of pain, but it wasn’t his own. It wasn’t from his mouth, the screaming. The screams were around him, through him, behind him, because it wasn’t him who was dying. No, not him, never him. He couldn’t die. The Other Guy wouldn’t give him that peace of mind.    
  
He turned slowly, looking for where the screaming was coming from. Behind him, there, another pool of blood, another broken body, screaming for him,  _screaming his name_ . Why? Who? Was that-? No, couldn’t be.   
  
“T-Tony?”   
  
\---   
  
“I’m right here. Are you okay? Bruce, talk to me, big guy. Breathe, okay?”    
  
There had been an explosion, the lab blackened and smoky as they dove off to the side, their experiment failing in the worst way. His heart pounded and he could hear the blood rushing in his ears, and suddenly there were hands on him, pushing against his chest, finding the pulse in his neck, a voice asking quick-fire questions.   
  
“I’m okay, I’m fine,” Bruce replied, smiling softly as he raised a hand to show Tony. “No green, we’re fine.”   
  
“You scared me for a second there. Hit your head pretty hard on the way down,” Tony explained, still looking him over to make sure he wasn’t injured too terribly.    
  
Bruce reached back with his raised hand, checking the back of his head, his fingers coming away _ red, red, red _ . He winced at the violent color, sitting up to try and steady himself, Tony’s hands all over him. His arm, his back, his chest, checking him carefully and keeping him anchored to his solid hands.    
  
“You might have a concussion. Try not to move,” Tony told him and he kept himself from nodding, humming in his response instead to not jar himself any further. He felt one of Tony’s hands leave him for a moment, grabbing a towel from the table that Bruce hit his head on, pressing it to the wound carefully and making Bruce wince.    
  
“Sorry, you know how it goes.”   
  
“It’s fine, don’t worry.”   
  
They stayed like that, Tony holding onto him tight and pressing against the wound, Bruce clinging to his forearm as he breathed deep and repeated meaningless details of his life to himself, making sure he hadn’t been hurt too terribly.    
  
“What’s your name?” Tony asked him and Bruce immediately knew that he was checking his memory as well. Good, very good.    
  
“Robert Bruce Banner,” he replied automatically, still focusing on his breathing as Tony moved the cloth to check and see how much blood there was. He made a small contented noise and Bruce knew it couldn’t be too bad.   
  
“What’s the Other Guy’s name?”   
  
“The Hulk,” he answered, knowing that was the correct answer, even if he never called him that himself. It didn’t feel right, giving him a name in his head. That made him too human.   
  
“What’s my name?” Tony asked him, a grin on his face.   
  
“Tony Stark, or rather, Anthony Edward Stark,” Bruce answered and returned his grin with a smirk.   
  
“Yep, you’re okay. Just a bit of a cut. Not even that bad, see?” He held the cloth up for Bruce to see it, the blood not staining the cloth nearly as much as he expected from when he first pulled his fingers away from his head.    
  
“Good. Did it stop?”    
  
“What, the bleeding?”   
  
“Mm.”   
  
“Ah, yeah, think so,” Tony leaned forward to check the wound again, pushing the cloth against his head gently and pulling it away to see if any blood came away. It came back with a few small splotches, but it was mostly done bleeding. “Yep, you’re pretty good. But you still shouldn’t move yet, just to be safe.”   
  
“You? Be safe? Very funny.”    
  
“Hey, I’m all about lab safety.”   
  
“Yeah, that’s why our experiment just exploded, right?”   
  
“That wasn’t my fault.”   
  
“Well it definitely wasn’t  _my_ fault.”   
  
Tony rolled his eyes at him and set the cloth down next to them. He leaned down to catch Bruce’s eyes with his own, checking his pupils. Bruce blinked at him slowly, staying still as he leaned in, not even thinking about what Tony might be doing other than checking his eyes.    
  
It only occurred to him after he felt the press of lips against his own. He didn’t respond, just letting Tony kiss him for a moment before the other man pulled back and gave him a curious smirk.    
  
“You just kissed me.”   
  
“You’re very observant, well done, Dr. Banner.”   
  
“Why?”   
  
“Why are you observant? Well, I think that might be because of how brilliant you are. That tends to come with the full package, you know.”   
  
“No, why did you kiss me?”   
  
“ _Because_ . ”   
  
Bruce blinked at him slowly and his brow creased in confusion. Tony really wasn’t contributing to curing his pounding head at that moment, with his run-around words and never-straight-to-the-point attitude.    
  
“That’s not an answer, Tony.”   
  
“Sure it is. Besides, I don’t hear you complaining about it.”   
  
“Well, I don’t think I should have to, I just want to know why you did it.”   
  
“Well, maybe I just wanted to.”   
  
Bruce paused at that, looking into Tony’s eyes for any hint of mocking or dishonesty, but either Tony was a  very  good actor, or he was telling the truth. He shifted slightly and licked his lips, forgetting about the throbbing pain in his head for a moment, which was definitely nice.   
  
“Are you just doing this to distract me from my head wound?”   
  
“Maybe a little, but that’s not all of it.”   
  
“I think I can handle that, then.”    
  
“Yeah?”   
  
“Yes.” Bruce nodded once, his head definitely forgotten then, the pain almost fading away. “Now help me up, I need to-” He didn’t get to finish, due to Tony’s lips muffling his words again. This time, he responded. Eagerly. Quickly.   
  
\---   
  
Desperately. That’s the only way to describe it. He was desperate. The  _red, red, red_ staining his hands like the murderer he was. Cold-blooded, brutal, desperate, crying, bleeding murderer hovering over his body, his still warm body because he was still breathing. Somehow, he’d never know how.   
  
Tears blurred his vision, making the blood look green in flashes of color, blinding color and pain and pure agony shooting down his spine as he pressed his hands to his chest, trying to make it stop. Just stop. Please, please, please, just stop, stop, stop.    
  
Breathe, just breathe.   
  
“M’okay, s’okay, Bruce,” he told him, as he bled out on the concrete. There was nothing he could do. Nothing. Useless. Pathetic. Failure.  _Monster_ .   
  
“No, no, please, no, god, you can’t leave me, Tony.”   
  
“M’right here, Bruce,” he could hear him say it over and over again, as if the blood wasn’t seeping through his lips, falling to color his skin with the life he needed, the life he had saved so many times. It wasn’t all for this, not at all. It couldn’t end here.   
  
It was hard, keeping his own blood away from Tony’s wounds. Because even when they were both -  _no, not both, the monster will never die_ \- doomed, he still couldn’t bare to be a part of his death. Not like this. Not the poison in his bloodstream that could kill a man in seconds given a high enough dosage.    
  
He managed to do it though, keeping himself far enough away from him, his hands the only thing on him and even that wasn’t enough, the shaking not stopping, never stopping.    
  
“Bruce, m’fine.”   
  
“No, no you’re not, Tony, there’s blood everywhere, and what the fuck even happened? I’m the one who got shot, you weren’t even there,  _what the fuck did you do?_ ” Bruce knew he was screaming then, the edges of his vision blurring to green, red, green, back again.    
  
“Went through. Standing right behind you when it happened. Got me good, I guess,” Tony tried to chuckle but he ended up coughing hard and Bruce pushed down on the wound harder.   
  
“Shut up, just shut up and let me think, Tony,” he was pleading now, still fading in and out of the acidic  _green and_ _red, red, red._   
  
“You’re the one that’s yelling, big guy,” Tony defended, grinning as if he didn’t have another gaping hole in his chest to match the first one. Because Tony could always figure out a way to have the most of everything in life. Not one luxurious house but two, or three, or four. Not one wound threatening his life, but two. One, still sealed tight, in place, glowing brightly with the arc reactor inside. The other, bleeding color that shouldn’t exist on the outside of his body because he needed that to live, even more than the reactor.    
  
“Just hold on, you’re going to live, Tony, I’m not going to let you die, okay?” Bruce said it more to himself than anything, trying to convince himself that he could do this, that he could save Tony, that he wasn’t as useless and desperate and pathetic and  _monstrous_ as he felt.   
  
“I know you will,” he told him, completely serious, absolutely trusting, so misplaced was that trust. And yet, there it was. There, mixed in with the blood and tears and  _green, red, green_ was Tony’s heart in his hands, both figuratively and almost literally, and in it that trust that he needed to live on, and that trust he couldn’t accept. Because he didn’t deserve it.    
  
\---   
  
He’d never done anything to deserve something like this. Never in a million years. And yet Tony was showering him with his own special brand of love, giving him little things here and there. Sharing a snack, stealing a kiss, smiling like he never had before from across the lab. It was almost as if he was important to someone.    
  
Almost as if he belonged somewhere.   
  
“You really need to stop,” Bruce told him, completely serious as he looked up from his screen he was working on as they sat on the couch, legs stretched out next to one another, Bruce leaning back against one arm, Tony against the other.    
  
“Stop what? I’m not doing anything,” Tony defended quickly, not looking up from his own screen, still typing away innocently.   
  
“Stop hacking my notes and changing my name to ‘Dr. Bruce Banner-Stark aka the Sass Master’, for one.”    
  
“ _Whaaaaat_ ? That wasn’t me.”    
  
“Tony.” Bruce gave him a long-suffering look and Tony finally looked up to meet his eyes, giving him the biggest shit-eating grin he had ever seen. Bruce sighed and shook his head, looking back down to erase all but the ‘Dr. Bruce Banner’ as it originally was.   
  
“Aw, c’mon, at least leave the ‘-Stark’,” Tony whined, clearly watching Bruce’s screen on his own, having hacked it again.   
  
“Tony, we are neither married, nor do you own me,” Bruce explained calmly.    
  
“So?”    
  
“So, I’m not going to keep it there.”   
  
“But why not?”   
  
“I just-”   
  
Tony suddenly sat forward, reaching up to grab the back of the couch and pull himself across the couch so that he was suddenly in Bruce’s space. Bruce blinked at him slowly, looking away from his screen again and watching as he scooted closer to him, practically sitting in his lap.   
  
“Can I help you?”   
  
“Probably.” Tony gave him a brilliant grin again, not explaining any further as he took both his and Bruce’s tablets and balanced them precariously on the back of the couch. He threw his leg over Bruce’s, sitting comfortably in his lap with a leg on either side of his thighs, smiling at him as if he had just won whatever game they were now playing.   
  
“Tony, I was busy with that.”   
  
“Does it look like I care?”   
  
“No, not really.”   
  
“Good, that was the plan.”    
  
“Tony, we’re not having sex right now. I’m busy.”   
  
“What was that?” Tony raised a hand to his ear, making Bruce roll his eyes and give him a disapproving smirk. “Oh, right, I don’t care.”   
  
“Obviously.”   
  
“Good, glad we’re clear on that,” Tony said with a smile as he pushed his hands against Bruce’s shoulders and squeezed at the tension he found there, easing it out of his muscles and pushing his fingers in deep. Bruce groaned at the contact, his shoulders immediately relaxing as Tony rubbed at them.    
  
He felt him lean forward, hands still on his shoulders, squeezing tight as he whispered in his ear, hot, and perfect, and specifically Tony.   
  
“Let’s go to bed.”   
  
And all he could think of was the heat, the connection, the  _red, red, red_ sheets that Tony had bought last month and he let his hands slide up to hold his hips, forgetting about what he had been working on. Tony’s hands, his voice, his everything was all he could focus on.   
  
“Alright,” he breathed out in response, his voice husky and just the way Tony liked it because after five months, Tony had already let him know  _exactly_ what he liked and Bruce had resolved to never forget.    
  
Tony didn’t move when Bruce needed him to, so he slid his arms around his waist, shifting them so that he sat on the edge of the couch and Tony laughed.    
  
“Are you planning on carrying me?”   
  
\---   
  
“I’m not going to just  _leave_ you here, Tony,” his voice was harsh and broken in all the ways that he knew would break Tony’s already bleeding heart.    
  
"Bruce, don't-"   
  
"Tony, I'm not going to fucking leave you here to die, so shut up and just let me do this."   
  
Tony went quiet which instantly made it worse, worse, so much worse than before. He ignored the pang of almost crippling fear in his bloodied chest as he bent down, careful, ever so careful, to lift Tony into his arms. He tried not to jostle him, but it was impossible not to hear his intake of ragged breath, feel his shaking hand on the back of his neck, know that as he picked him up, the  _red, red, red_ bled out of him like a river.   
  
It was more difficult than anything else in the world, to know that Tony might die in his arms without him being able to do a damn thing to stop it. To know that everything was suddenly life or death in a way that it really hadn’t ever been before, in a way that was terrifying to them even when they were supposed to be superheroes.    
  
He stood in the middle of the street, fires around them and buildings crumbling, the war still raging around them. A pointless fight, a battle long-gone by now. None of it mattered. They bled in the street, painting the town violent red with spilt life.   
  
Bruce looked down to see Tony’s eyes closed, his breathing soft and barely even there and Bruce felt like he was dying inside.   
  
\---   
  
And he had never felt better. Alive. At least that’s what it felt like. For the first time in years, one person had been able to finally make him feel like he was alive again. Not just running, hiding, scared of his own reflection, terrified of waking up in an unknown location with only a memory of  _ red, red, red,  **green** _ , but actually learning how to live again.   
  
Currently, living consisted of lying in bed next to Tony, watching him sleep, his eyes fluttering gently as he dreamt. He reached forward, brushing his fingers gently against the surface of the arc reactor, knowing that he was one of the only people in the world to even see it this close and even after a full year, it amazed him to no end.    
  
There was something about the quiet moments they spent together, something that was unique only to them. The comfort and stability that they built between them in their silences were stronger, louder, more profound by any words ever could be.    
  
Bruce liked to listen to Tony breathing. Shut his eyes, block out the rest of the sound, and just listen to know that he was alive and real and sleeping next to him. He matched his own breathing to Tony’s, deep, calm, slow. It helped him relax, ease the tension in his body, back, shoulders, everywhere, he just let it all drain away.   
  
No one else saw him like Tony did. He’d made sure to tell him so time and time again, that they each showed each other a side that no one else had ever really seen. Not even Pepper or Rhodey, but they came close. But it still wasn’t the same. Never the same and that’s what made it so special.   
  
Cliche, yes. True, definitely.   
  
Tony often complained about how domestic and cliche they made each other, but Bruce knew that they both secretly enjoyed it. It was a stability in their lives that they had never before had and it was something they had both always craved.    
  
Bruce opened his eyes to see Tony staring back at him, feeling his hand come up to wrap around his fingers around the hand he held against the reactor, gentle and just intimate enough to keep them still.    
  
\---   
  
And they stare at each other as Tony wakes in the strange bed, a scream on the tip of his tongue as he surfaces from the suffocating nightmares of pain, death, blood, so much blood. It was everywhere, a voice screaming at him to stay awake because he couldn’t leave. He wasn’t allowed to leave him in this fucking deep dark shit hole of a world.   
  
And he woke and saw nothing but the  _red, red, red_ for a moment before the edges of his vision smoothed out and it all became white. Sickening, sterile, pure white that made his head swim and he let his eyes land on Bruce’s again and he felt like he could breathe again.   
  
“Hey.”   
  
“Hey there. So, alive?” Tony asked because he couldn’t tell with Bruce there. Dead or alive, he figured he’d still have him there, no matter what.   
  
“Alive,” Bruce confirmed with a small nod. He was sat beside his bed, hands clenched into tight fists in his lap, his own chest wrapped to make sure his wound healed. Tony had been right; the bullet went right through him and hit Tony. Bruce had been saved - again, always, never going to die - by the Other Guy, and he had collapsed as soon as he handed Tony over to the doctors in the hospital they were currently in.   
  
Tony reached for him, silent, finding the same thread of comfort in the silence they built together to cling onto and he found his hand, pulling him forward. He held him close, making Bruce fall into his bed beside him, curling their bodies together in a closeness he didn’t share with anyone else in his entire life. And his fingers twined in Bruce’s hair and Bruce’s legs tangled with Tony’s and they might have been yelled at by a nurse but they ignored her, holding onto each other like they were clinging onto life and there was nothing that could pull them apart.   
  
Tony might have felt a wetness on his skin, but he didn’t say anything. Bruce might have felt Tony’s nails dig a bit too hard into his flesh, but he didn’t mind, enjoying the pain that helped him find that sensation of being alive again. And they just stayed quiet, listening the soft sound of Tony’s heartbeat connected to the monitor and they were careful of his IVs, but they tangled together as if that was how they were meant to be because they deserved that peace of mind for once in their lives.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this throughout the day today. I don't really know, I had the first scene in my head and I wanted to see if I could expand it. So there's that.
> 
> Also: R.I.P aisu (not really though, she told me to put it)


End file.
